Syria Between Fear and Hope
Just as Germans rarely left their homes without carrying thick bundles of cash during the hyperinflation crisis that plagued the Weimar Republic a century ago, Syrians today seldom venture out without a hefty amount of money in hand. With ongoing sectarian tensions—long simmering under the rule of the Alawite minority—fuelling instability, ATMs set withdrawal limits at around $40 a week, if they are operational at all.
Six months after the ousting of President Bashar al-Assad, which ended a bloody 13-year civil war, Syrians continue to struggle to survive day to day. Despite the immense hardships, many still cling to hope that life might return to some degree of normalcy. However, every week brings new challenges that shatter this hope. Recently, Syria has found itself in a bind with Israel now utilizing its airspace to attack Iran, a situation the Syrian populace would prefer to avoid.
In a culture that venerates hospitality, most Syrians can no longer offer more than a single cup of coffee to a visitor. The country is facing severe drought—worse than that which is often linked to the 2011 uprising—that now threatens 75% of wheat crops, undermining bread availability and exacerbating food insecurity.
Few Syrians long for Assad’s return, but many harbor doubts about his successor, Ahmad al-Shara. Al-Shara, a former leader within Al-Qaeda, ruled the rural Idlib province for several years, imposing a strict Sunni sharia regime. Although he has moderated some of his stances since then, he remains as enigmatic as the educated, Western-educated Assad, who promised reforms but ended up as one of the worst war criminals since World War II.
Like his predecessor, al-Shara rules by decree with scant transparency, leaving many Syrians fearful that they have merely exchanged one tyrant for another, swapping a secular dictatorship for an Islamic one. Al-Shara’s ideological leanings and economic priorities remain unclear; his critics attack him for his jihadist past, while his former allies in Iraq question his current religious fervor.
Regardless of al-Shara’s agenda, sectarian divisions continue to hinder any effective governmental action, as Druze in the south and Alawites in Assad’s coastal stronghold refuse to recognize the new government. The Druze spiritual leader, Hikmat al-Hijri, described al-Shara and his allies as "hypocrites"—a heavy religious term referring to those who rejected the message of the Prophet Muhammad. When I asked if he supported federalism, he replied that he opposed centralization, asserting that he and his community sought a weak central government unable to impose authority over their remote regions.
As for the Alawites, their predicament is different. As the previous ruling minority in Syria, they do not resemble the Sunni elite that was overthrown by the Americans in neighboring Iraq. While Sunni Muslims constitute the majority in the Arab and Islamic world, Sunni Iraqis believe they are entitled to rule over the Shiite majority and demand to reclaim their status.
However, Syrian Alawites cannot embrace similar aspirations. Nonetheless, this has not stopped them from attempting to instigate a rebellion akin to what Sunni Iraqis did following the American invasion in 2003. Yet the Alawites are a considerably smaller minority than the Sunni Iraqis, and their fragmented history complicates efforts to unify.
Recent clashes between the government and these sectarian groups have unsettled Syrians and shaken public confidence in the new regime. Still, al-Shara enjoys the support of most Arab Sunnis, as religious Muslims back him because the downfall of the "infidel" Baath Party—at least in their eyes—allowed religion to return to public life. Others praise him for lowering prices, although evidence of his actual ability to influence markets is limited, unlike what sometimes occurred during the presidency of Donald Trump.
Anti-Americanism and animosity towards Israel have always been core pillars of Baathist ideology under Assad. Both he and his father adopted this hardline stance to divert attention from their internal failures and minority rule. Under their reign, Syria was the first to condemn Israeli attacks on Iran and supported those opposing Israel both materially and morally. Today, however, Syrians have become more isolated, preoccupied with their internal wounds rather than regional events. Although Israel has intensified its interventions in Syrian territory since Assad’s fall, many Syrians prefer to maintain normal neighborly relations with it.
In a community suffering from poverty and scarcity, the one thing Syrians lack is hope—the only commodity that cannot be purchased or subjected to international sanctions. "Without hope, we cannot live," a middle-aged man told me as he pondered whether to spend his meager savings on new sneakers for his children or repair the broken wiring in his apartment.
Syrians face many of these harsh trade-offs, and what they truly miss are those rare happy surprises, such as Trump’s unexpected decision to ease U.S. sanctions, which led many to expect more such "coincidences." "It is God who planted the love of Syria in Trump’s heart," a man confidently remarked while holding a bag of rotten tomatoes he had bought at a discounted price.
According to the U.S. special envoy to Syria, Tom Barak, the administration’s decision to lift some sanctions aimed to "flood the scene with hope." However, what Syrians truly hope for is to be inundated with American capital and investments, sparing them the necessity of choosing between existential needs and basic comforts, thus enabling them—at the very least—to buy fresh vegetables instead of rotten ones.
